Dear
Human, who gazes at me so lovingly wondering what my story is, if you
would just sit awhile and be as peaceful on the inside as you are on
the outside, my story will reveal itself to you. You pace and wander
in your mind while you serenely face the world. Sit. Rest...and
listen.
Before I
ended up in this beautiful, modern glass home with the bed of pure
white sand, with fossicked shells for decoration, my travels were
many. My journeys were not as yours as I saw time pass in the depths
of the ocean. Oh how I ached for the dry land again, to be wanted by
someone again.
I was
created in England in a small potting town and was part of a
beautiful set of dining dishes. I was passed on from my first owner
upon their death, to a beautiful young couple and oh they cherished
me! I was treated with reverence and importance....I was loved!
Time
passed and the young pair grew older and had children of their own,
and those children grew, or did not. Slowly but surely, parts of me
were lost. My bowls went first....my dinner plates...slowly but
surely through various accidents, my family was decimated until there
was only myself and my cup remaining. At
the same time, my humans were tried with misfortunes, the deaths of
their children from illness and accidents, and the loss of
circumstance so that they
too were left with very little. Finally the decision was made to
leave here, our place of birth and inheritance and travel over the
seas to make a new home, where new roots could be set down. I had
been treated with even greater reverence than before, kept upon the
mantle as a reminder of who we once were....gathering dust and grime
but I was still loved! And so, we went.
My cup
and I were packed up and we set off to what we thought was the
greatest city on earth, London, and there we boarded a sailing ship
headed for New South Wales.
On
this journey, I was used by my lovely bride as she strove to remain
positive at
this change of circumstance.
Of
the five children this beautiful girl bore, only one remained....such
a naughty lad! But like I, he was loved, he was cherished and he was
adored. May-hap this contributed to his mischiefs and misbehaviors.
May-hap it was just one of those things...happenstance.
But
it was he who orchestrated the loss of my whole. The lad was feeling
unwell and was more contrary than usual. His mother finished the
last of her tea and set my cup down upon me when a flying arm from
the boy, sent said cup flying to shatter on the floor into many
irretrievable pieces.
I
felt the loss of my cup keenly, but for a long time, I could not
dwell upon it's loss as the child grew sicker and sicker. I was used
as a way of getting liquids into the child during his illness. I
worked hard – he was a part of my family! But to no avail. The boy
and many others died on that journey to the place we thought would be
ours. My beautiful bride also passed and with her, the spirit of her
husband.
He
had nothing left to live for he said. He had lost it all. He wailed
and gnashed his teeth as the lad and his mother were wrapped together
in one of their fine linen sheets, and buried at sea where never
again, would they be beheld.
We
arrived in Australia and at once my man drew a drink. I sat unused,
in a small pile of belongings left outside a tavern, as the man lost
what was left his dignity. Little wonder that I was stolen with the
rest of his luggage.
So
how did I get here? I was taken on board yet another ship, to travel
who knows where, by who knows who! I was broken! I was mistreated
and I was broken in three, no more use to even the lowest of the
sailors. My own obsequies at sea were not with the cherishing words
and tears of my bride's burial. Instead, I was callously tossed
overboard with a curse, my three pieces violently separated by the
movement of the waves. The parts of what remained of my whole and I,
cried out to each other. We had heard of this place and we were
scared. We knew we would never see each other again.
Time
passed and I slowly moved around the floor of the ocean, a witness to
the power of the tidal motions. At one point I was taken in by a
covetous octopus who had created within his home, a beautiful
collection of treasures. But – my beauty had been dulled by then
so when another more beautiful item was brought home by the octopus,
I was thrown out again onto the tide, to travel where it might take
me.
I
became rubbed down. My sharp edges became soft curves as little
chips of me were whittled off by not so gentle landings on sand and
stone. My design, a beautiful deep blue, became the faded delicate
grey of shopworn pen-ink on cheap paper.
Once
in a while during a beach landing, I breathed the salty air and
freedom oh so briefly. It only served to remind me of my lost
family. I would hear tales from other treasures such as myself – a
part of a surgeon's medicament bottle, a piece of a soup tureen lost
during a storm and once – another piece of dining ware from the
same small town as I whose story was just as tragic. So, I took the
chaffing and scuffing afforded me by the beach and waited for the
tide to change.
I
was always washed off the beaches. I was always returned to the
water. Until the last day. I had been flung high upon the shore by
angry, stormy waves. Here, there were less shells and more sand.
How was I to know that this sand was the remains of us all! A girl
was slowly wandering along the beach, rugged up against the stormy
weather. Even I could feel her sadness. Every now and then she
would stoop to the sand and pick something up. A pretty pebble or
attractive shell. She also picked me up. She stroked me lovingly,
tenderly. She wrapped me in a handkerchief fished out from somewhere
and placed me in the pocket of her left hand. She fondled me gently
through the handkerchief.
Abruptly
I felt her turn and walk back the way she came. We ended up back at
her home, a bright, shiny and warm home, and in a room the likes of
which I had never seen. Creatures I know now are dragons, hung from
her ceiling in little glass homes, fat shiny cats wandered in and out
and a small fire crackled warmly in the hearth. Time had passed for
me and oh such wonders that had been created! I could not take in
all that I saw, all that I heard! That I had survived for such a long
time to see what this world had achieved!
She
took me out of her pocket, washing me gently in salt free water then
drying me as she looked around her room. I watched as she retrieved
what was to become my beautiful glass home from a shelf and filled it
with pure white sand. She then picked me up and reverently placed me
in the sand, giving me adornments for what was to be my new home.
And that, my dear friend, is my story. Here I will sit, taken out of my sand once in a while to be stroked and rubbed, until that very last day when the last stroke takes all that is left of me and spreads me gently in my bed of sand. But, I am loved.
The End.
(C)Michelle Evans Catherall 2016. All rights reserved
